Love is Forever
by Yukito-sama
Summary: (Chp4 FINALLY UP)In present day Erik goes to college to take his music and give it to the world. Unexpectedly he meets Christine, a shy girl with an angel's voice. Christine soon shows Erik the fullness of love.
1. Prologue

Prologue: Erik  
  
I've always been the outcast; not only in society's eyes but in the eyes of my own family. I was the bastard child of an abusive man who practically raped me into being. My mother was and still is a practicing Catholic and refused to have an abortion. She married the man who I never knew as a father, much to anger of her own family. They all despised him, but knew it was the only way to go. My mother could not have a child and have the father running about with wanton women day and night; that would make her look bad.  
  
The man who fathered me, as I said, was abusive. Not only to my mother but to me as well. I was never able to defend myself when he attacked me. I don't remember him either. The last beating I was every given by him was when I was three. After that he was locked away and, for all I know, dead. That last beating was the worst, as I'm told and as I can plainly see every time I look in a mirror. In a drunken rage he attacked me as I slept. With a rusty pocketknife he slashed at my face, neck, and arms. My mother called the police after hearing my screams and nearly being stabbed to death herself.  
  
It's a wonder I survived. My mother escaped with only a few, small scars. I, on the other hand, wear the scars across my face. The skin beneath my eyes is scared, as is my forehead. To explain the wounds I wear in my life would take so much time. Because of those scars my own mother shuns me. I've been told I look like my father; the same shinning black hair, captivating light brown eyes, and fair skin. If the scars weren't there, I would be attractive to many people, but my mother believes it is God's will and I am not and, now, will not have surgery to fix what has been done.  
  
The teasing, questions, and stares were ever present on me whenever I walked out the door. When I began school it became unbearable. My teachers and family knew I held my father's rage, which can be lighted with out notice. One day I was verbally attacked on the playground during school. I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the nearest thing and began to lash out at the kid who taunted me. They began to laugh even harder; all I had was a stick. That, though, was all I needed. To say the least, I was expelled from school for assaulting a child. I was home schooled from than on.  
  
Home schooling was my saving and my home was soon my sanctuary. As my mother soon found out, I was a genius. I excelled at everything. Professors from a college were soon recruited to teach the prodigy simply known as Erik. I was the masked child, wearing the mask to shield the scars for not only my sake but for others. Somehow I knew I was smarter than the average person. I was smarter than my mother and I was soon looking down on her. Slowly I found the simple powers I possessed over everyone else. I had my intelligence, my strength, my height, for I was a tall child to begin with, and my voice.  
  
The one subject that I adored most of all was music. I mastered all the works of Mozart and Beethoven by the age of ten and soon composed my own. I had my own instructor, Monsieur Bovio, who composed his own works as well. He was my role model and the only person that could calm me down in my sudden fits of rage. M. Bovio loved to listen to me sing and requested me to do so on a whim. I delighted in his fascination with my voice and never argued. Soon I was doing small concerts and I learned that my voice could drive people to tears. My mask was nothing to these people. On stage I was a performer and the mask was guise to hide the child prodigy that I was; it was there as my protector.  
  
My fame was short lived and it came with great ease. My teaching ended in my nineteenth year and I set out to college. That's when it all started. . . . 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter one: Erik  
  
The autumn days in the north were just the kisses of winter. The air was chilled and the skies gray. I adore autumn, though; it is nature's best season. The world has been turned into a cornucopia of color. I spend hours at a time, sketching and painting what I see from my balcony at home and on campus. When winter comes, I wait for the first snow and than spend the day painting and drawing. If I have my classes on that day, I exempt myself from them. Art knows no boundaries and I will not hold it back by those set before me by the college.  
  
My days in the community college were spent in the music rooms or any of the art rooms that happened to be empty. The solitude of it all is comforting for me and for the others that attend the college. Even in this day and age people cannot accept that I wear a mask to cover my wounds. I take it unto myself to rid myself from their sight by having my spare time and my classes in as much privacy as possible. If teachers refuse for private classes, I offer to pay them extra. I've never once been turned away.  
  
"Beautiful, Erik!" Mrs. Marrin said. She placed a hand on my shoulder as she looked at the canvas before me. I glanced at her hand, wishing she would pull away, but said nothing. The unwanted contact was brought by the praise of my simple painting, so I didn't mind. The painting was of a small flock of geese that frequented the campus. They were easy subjects as they slowly swam in the stream. I enjoyed them as subjects and always caught them in interesting posses.  
  
"You never cease to amaze me." Mrs. Marrin added.  
  
I looked at her and gave a faint smile. The masks I wore covered the upper part of my face, leaving the bottom of my nose and my mouth exposed, as well as parts of my cheeks. "Thank you." I replied. I put my paintbrush to my mouth and looked at the geese. "It could be better though. The damned things were squawking at each other and fighting. It was hard to have it done in this pose."  
  
Mrs. Marrin shook her head. "Nonsense, Erik! You've done beautifully. It's like looking at one of your photographs." She turned and walked to her table. She rummaged through her briefcase before returning her gaze to me. "Are you comfortable with painting humans, Erik, or do you prefer animals?"  
  
I shrugged. "I can do either. Why?"  
  
"Well, I was wondering if you would do some sketches of people on campus." Mrs. Marrin explained. She pulled out a small stack of papers for her next class. She smiled at me and I forced myself to return the gesture. "All I'd like you to do is just sit somewhere and sketch people. It would be nice if you could get some people to pose, but I will let you decide on that. The sketches don't have to be exact. I want your imagination to take full control."  
  
Mrs. Marrin approached me slowly as she pulled back her sandy blonde hair. She smiled once more at me. Age held nothing to her; she barely looked thirty five, but she was well past that age. "If you see someone as a devil, draw them like that. If you envision them looking off into the distance as they are drifting down the French Riviera, than you may do that. I want you to do what you like."  
  
I looked at the painting of the geese and smiled despite myself, feeling my eyes light up with my joy. This was something I could do. Yes, I love to paint what I am told, but I rarely let myself have complete freedom with what I did. The students on campus were interesting and I always wished to give them different guises.  
  
"I can draw them any way I wish?" I breathed, somewhat unsure of what was happening.  
  
"Of course, Erik!" Mrs. Marrin replied with a smile. She patted my shoulder happily and once more I didn't shy to the touch. I looked up at her as if I was a child, amazed by a strange spectacle before me. "You can go as far as painting which ever you choose. I would like to enter some of your work into an amateur's gallery at the museum, if that is all right."  
  
I nodded, somewhat baffled by what she was telling me. I prided myself in every art I've done, but never imagined my artwork as nothing more than a simple hobby. By the way Mrs. Marrin spoke, I could tell she held my art in the highest regard. It was rare to see an art student, self- taught in everything he does, to be displayed amongst famed paintings and sculptures.  
  
When I was dismissed from my short class I wandered up the two flights of stairs to the dinning area of the building. The art class I took was beneath the Student Center, which housed offices, classes, and the dinning hall. By midday the area would be filled with people, commencing with stories of their boring classes and of the recent weekend. They sat at tables, suited for four, but holding twice as much when wanted. The smell of pizza lingered in the air, thanks to the local pizza shop having a small branch on the school's campus.  
  
I took refuge in a corner of the dinning hall, having the table to myself. My bag was beside me and I had my art supplies before me. People only glanced at me once, my eyes meeting their own with a harsh glare. My mask was also a source of their soft-spoken fear, leaving me be as I watched and sketched them for hours at a time. I would take a moment in time and place it on the paper before me, placing them from the small tables at a Paris café to the cauldron of Macbeth's Weird Sisters. I did what ever seemed to strike my fancy at that moment.  
  
Time soon slipped away and I noticed that it was nearly two o'clock. My mother expected me home in thirty minutes, but my muse had just appeared through the doors before me. As I raised my eyes from my sketchpad, I saw what could only be described as breath taking. A young woman, no older than myself, seemed to come from the heavens above. Her curled, brown hair hung half way down the simple curve of her back, laced with blue silken ribbons. The girl's soft emerald eyes seemed to glisten even in the dim light around us, studying every aspect of the room. She wore a pair of black pants and a gray and black sweatshirt, which was hidden for she held a book over her chest as if it was protecting her.  
  
As if I was possessed by demon, I went to work. Never in my life had inspiration struck me as fast as this. In moments the nameless girl was staring at me from the paper I held; her eyes seemed to sparkle and her lips curved in the beautiful smile I knew she held. Some how I even captured the way strands of her hair seemed to fall into her face, giving her the look of a child or a faerie I would imagine lived in the realms that a rare few could see.  
  
I put my charcoal pencil into its case and let it drop onto my closed sketchbook. I raised my eyes to find my unnamed beauty, only to find her sitting across the room and her eyes looking at me in soft wonder. Her cheeks grew pink as our eyes met and I felt my heart shudder as a shy smile crossed her perfect face. I returned the smile and raised my hand in a short wave. Once more her cheeks grew pink and she turned her eyes away. This girl, the epitome of perfect womanhood, glanced at me once more before opening her book and forced herself to read.  
  
Slowly I gathered my things, keeping an eye on the unnamed beauty before me. She would watch me from the edge of her book, thinking I could not see her. I began to wonder if she was curious enough to follow me. I took delight in the thought that she would. If she did, I could find out her name and more about her. Perhaps this would be a way to paint her in her full potential and beauty. On the other hand, though, her interest in me could be because of my mask, the ever-present reminder that I had no friendship with a single person my age.  
  
With my art supplies in hand I began to retrace my step to the art rooms below. There was room that I used to house my artwork. It was gift from Mrs. Marrin; a room to keep my work safe from home and the other students. That room and the music chamber was my only sanctuary on campus. I fled to those rooms when I felt the need to leave behind the world. There I could be in silence and focus my energy on my work, relieving myself of any emotion which began to present itself.  
  
As I walked down the empty hall I could hear the soft footfalls of someone who wished to follow. I smiled to myself, somehow knowing that the person behind me was my unknown faerie. I reached into my pocket, producing the key chain I kept with me, holding the keys to my car, home, and to the rooms of the art department. With a coy smile I quickened my step and listened as the footsteps slowly quickened as well.  
  
With the bend of the hall I dashed down the empty corridor. My mouth was wide with a gleeful smile; my heart was racing, as was my mind with the possibilities of what could happen. A friendship, a kindred spirit of sorts, or, if there happens to be a way, a deeper relationship with this girl. My love for people was stricken by what my father had done and the lack of love from my mother. I steered away from the human contact and love was something that not even my mother could explain to me. Love was as alien to me.  
  
I unlocked the doors to the art room and slipped in, leaving the door wide open. I flipped on the light and threw my supplies onto one of the tables. Slowly I moved through the maze of canvases and nameless faces watching me. Birds flying across the skies and sleeping on the bay of a forgotten lake graced the walls, waiting to be taken home or sold for the sole purpose to create another.  
  
My time in the room would be short and I knew this as I walked into the back to retrieve my jacket. My mother was strict when it came to my punctuality. She didn't want me out in public, for fear I would be traced to her. She was finally finding herself and looking for a new man to connect with. My presence in her world and the fear I may be seen made her weary of me. She has screamed at me and wished me dead. Only once have I hit her, but it was in self-defense. My own mother, in a fit of rage and drunk from a sudden binge, came at me with a butcher knife. With one simple move she was on the ground, crying. She cringes every time I come near enough to touch her.  
  
"Oh my God."  
  
The soft voice reached my ears and I felt those memories of my mother slip away. I slipped my jacket on and listened to soft footfalls and the gasps from my guest. A smile crossed my face as she whispered to herself on the beauty of a painting. I closed me eyes, wishing I could be beside her, telling her about my paintings. The thought of her looking at me, smiling with approval seemed all too strange for me. This strange beauty was no one to me, yet I wished nothing more than for her approval and the simplicity of her smile to be for me.  
  
Running a hand through me hair and letting my nerves calm I took a step out of the office. Just as I had guessed my guest was my unnamed beauty. She no longer had her book, which was placed near my art supplies, and hands freely moved about. Her slender fingers barely touched the finished painting, outlining the simple creatures I had captured in a moment of purity. Her eyes looked at my work with wonder and absolute adoration, which sent surge of joy through me.  
  
"I have more paintings you could look at, if you like." I said softly.  
  
The girl jumped with surprise. She spun around quickly, her hair dancing around her face. Her cheeks grew a soft rose color and her eyes widened with embarrassment. She turned her eyes away form me and bit her lip, unable to make any type of response. I smiled softly and studied her closely. As I had imagined she was flawless. It was as if she was sculpted from marble and life was breathed into her, letting her live.  
  
"I'm sorry." she whispered, her voice ringing like a bell in my ear. My heart seemed to shudder, as did the core of my soul, as those words echoed in my mind.  
  
I smiled. "You have no reason to be. I'm just wondering why you followed me."  
  
The girl's face quickly grew red and she turned away from me. I felt a sudden wave of anger towards myself. She was a delicate creature and I wasn't doing much to keep her comfort in my presence. I cleared my throat and she instinctively turned to look at me. Our eyes me and I felt my heart skip a beat once more. Words escaped me for a moment and I wished I could capture her simple expression in a painting.  
  
"I didn't think you'd be in here." she said, finally finding her voice. Her eyes studied me for a moment. "When I came around the hall, I saw the door open. No one was here when I looked in. I thought you went into another room, so I decided to look at your paintings. I'm sorry that I was touching them. Hopefully none of them are ruined."  
  
A soft smile crossed my face. "It's okay. My paintings have been through a lot worse than being touched, even as delicate as you have." Slowly I took a few steps towards her. She took a step back, keeping a distance between us. "But you still didn't answer my question."  
  
"Oh!" she said. A soft, nervous laugh escaped her and I felt my soul stir with the very sound. She looked at me bashfully. "I noticed that you were drawing people when I was walking around. When I walked into the room I got the feeling that you were drawing me." Her fingers slowly began to fiddle with the soft curls of her hair nervously. Her emerald eyes locked onto mine for a moment, before looking away. "I just wanted to see the picture you drew of me."  
  
"Really?" I asked, somewhat surprised by the source of her curiosity. I moved past her quickly and took hold of my sketchbook. I flipped through the pages until I got to my sketch of her. For a moment I paused, wondering if I should hand it over and let her view the unfinished work. With a sigh I held it out to her; I was going out on a limb. "Here you go."  
  
Without a word she took the sketchbook and nervously looked over her portrait. Her eyes widened and she smiled. Her eyes turned to mine once more and this time she didn't turn them away. "You're really talented. This is beautiful. I don't think this looks a thing like me. I'm not as elegant as you drew me."  
  
I looked into her eyes, nearly losing myself in them. "I sketched what I saw." I breathed, unaware of what I had just said.  
  
With a blushed face she looked over the sketch again. "My name is Christine." she said, slowly turning her eyes to me.  
  
"I'm Erik." I replied with a smile, overjoyed with the fact I now knew this angel's name. "It's nice to meet you."  
  
Christine smiled bashfully and handed my sketchbook to me. "Well, I need to get to my next class. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything." As she said this she quickly grabbed her book and seemed to grow self- conscious before my eyes. "It was nice to meet you.  
  
"I was wondering, Christine," I said, causing her to stop as she took a few steps towards the door. "if you would be a model for a few of my paintings."  
  
For a moment Christine stared at me in a state of shock. I had the sinking feeling she would turn my offer down, being approached by a stranger out of no where and one with a mask covering half of his face. I can frighten most people when I look at them just right.  
  
"I. . . Are you sure you want me as a model?" Christine finally said her voice full of nervousness. I couldn't find an answer to the question. I wanted to tell her that I couldn't go a day without finishing at least one painting of her. She lowered her eyes seeming to find her thoughts. "Where would you have the sessions?"  
  
"It would be in one of the art rooms here." I replied. A sigh of relief escaped Christine, and I couldn't blame her for that. These days you can't trust many people. It must've been frightening to have me, a strange masked man, ask her to be a model.  
  
Silence surrounded us. I watched Christine for a moment. Every simple movement she made was enticing. The way she looked at me and the way her eyes scanned over my paintings. She was a frightened creature, but she had the regal beauty that lacked words.  
  
"So, will you be a model for a few of my paintings?" I asked, my soft voice breaking through the silence.  
  
Christine's eyes slowly locked onto mine. They shook for a moment and than a soft smile graced her face. "I'd love to!"  
  
I couldn't help but return Christine's bright smile. Her smile widened slightly and her cheeks grew a soft pink color. Our eyes never left the others and, for a moment, I felt like we connected on some level, some how.  
  
"Why don't we start tomorrow? We can meet in here. Is around eleven okay for you?" I asked, my smile never fading and my eyes never leaving hers.  
  
Christine lowered her eyes bashfully, keeping her smile, and nodded. "That sounds great!" She smiled happily and looked at me. "Is there anything specific that I need to bring or wear?"  
  
I shook my head. "Just come in what ever you want. If it comes to it, I will instruct you."  
  
"Okay. So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Christine asked, slowly taking a few steps backwards. I nodded with a smile, which made her eyes glitter with joy. She smiled and gave a short wave of her fingers as she clutched her book to her body. "Bye."  
  
I watched as she disappeared from the room and from my view. My heart fluttered in my chest as I felt a wave of feelings I had never felt before. I've read books upon books, enough to fill a library, and none have come close to the sonnet and symphony I was creating in my mind about this simple feeling. As a child I was given anything and everything I wanted. Now, though, I was receiving something I didn't receive when I needed it; a sense of love and longing.  
  
Holding these simple feelings in my heart I looked once more at my sketch of Christine. Her warm eyes stared at me, with the soft smile gracing the simple beauty she held. I traced the image with a finger and smiled to myself. Closing the book and gathering my things I left the room, turning off the lights and locking the door. I had to get home; mother wouldn't be happy if I was late.  
  
**********  
  
It was half past three when I walked through the front doors of my mother's home. The grand, two story Victorian replica smelt of cooking bread and vanilla from a few of the lighted candles. The smell was welcoming, but the sounds from the distant kitchen made my once joyful mood bitter. I could hear my mother cooing and laughing into the phone as she spoke with one of her newest love interests. One would think a woman of strict Catholic values wouldn't be such a whore.  
  
I shrugged off my jacket and hung it upon the empty coat rack, placing my sketchbook and supplies on a small end table. Slowly I moved, silent as a cat and as vicious as a feline on the prowl. I inched closer to the kitchen, my ears slowly taking in every sickening word of my mother's breath. This man, a doctor by the name of Peter King, she spoke to didn't know I existed. She brought him home once, thinking I was asleep or working on a piece of art, but I sat at the top of the stairs, half in tears and in a fit of rage as I listened to answer this man's questions, denying that I existed.  
  
"No, it's no problem, Pete!" my mother giggled. "Besides, I have something perfect I can make. I hope you like duck! That's good! I have a perfect recipe for it."  
  
Duck! It was a rare delicacy in our family, despite the money we had in our grasp. Now, though, she was speaking as if it was eaten everyday within these hollowed walls. I frowned and cursed beneath my breath as she went on about the dinner she would prepare. What of me, though? What was I to do? More than likely I would be banished to my room at the end of the upstairs hall, or paid to go out and do something to entertain myself until past midnight.  
  
I turned away and, in my cat like grace and silence, I moved to the stairs, grabbing my sketchbook as I moved past it. With a glance towards the kitchen door and my mother's shadow, I made my way up the staircase. The stairs creaked softly beneath my weight as I hurried up the last few steps. I knew my mother heard the soft sounds for her conversation became hushed and the giggling softened.  
  
The hall opened before, expanding on both sides to an array of open and closed door. The air was chilled and the lights turned off, leaving an eerie feeling in the air, despite the time of day. Few pictures graced the walls of our home and only pictures of my early years were allowed to be hung. In my room, though, I kept all the pictures my mother tried to hide or throw away. All of the pictures of my father were hidden in my room. Yes, I despise him for what he has done and put me through, but there are times I wished to see him. I knew for a fact, though, that he lived in this city or in a neighboring one and I had a longing to contact him.  
  
I moved down the opposite wing of the hall, straying from my room. I was in the mood to compose something. There was a song playing within my mind, pulling at my fingers. Silently I moved past the empty walls and towards the open door to my own little studio. I could see my paintings and my piles of unfinished symphonies. The end of my grand piano was barely seen and the stand for my violin's music was leaning against the wall. All of this, all my work, was given to me by my father, who saw it fit to have me express myself in the arts, a way which he wanted to but his destiny was too far.  
  
"Erik, is that you?" My mother's voice seemed to slither and come from the darkness around me.  
  
"Yes, mother." I replied, coming to a stop. I lowered my head and closed me eyes, listening to her soft breath and whispers from the bottom of the stairs.  
  
"You're late." she said with a bitter tone. "Didn't I tell you to come straight home when you were done with you're classes?"  
  
I slowly opened my eyes and let out a soft sigh. "Yes, mother, and I'm sorry. My instructor, Mrs. Marrin, wanted me to sketch some students around campus. I lost track of time."  
  
There was a moment of silence, in which I hoped she disappeared back to the kitchen to finish her conversation with Peter. To my dismay, she had crept up the stairs and was standing at the mouth of the staircase, her shadow hovering near my own. Slowly I turned to face her, standing straight, with my head held high, just as she always instructed me. A trace of a smile crossed her lips, but a twinkle of fear danced within those eyes I found much dislike in.  
  
"You must've sketched quite a few people." my mother said. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked me in the eye. For a minute I felt inferior, much like I did when I was younger. "May I see what you have drawn?"  
  
"No, you may not" I growled, my eyes growing with anger as I met her gaze.  
  
My mother flinched. "And why not?"  
  
I narrowed my eyes and turned away from her sharply. "You never took interest in my sketches before, why should you now?" I moved quickly into my studio and paused. I glanced over my shoulder and looked at my mother. "I suppose I'll be going out tonight, since dear Mr. King will be paying you a visit. Be sure to keep your hands off each other. It's sickening to know that my 'righteous' mother is teaching me abstinence while she isn't practicing it herself."  
  
With that I slammed the door to my studio, blocking her shocked expression from my eyes. 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter two  
Christine  
  
Music filled the room and I swayed with every note. My eyes closed and my body came to life as the music wakened my soul. I was a born dancer; that's what I've always been told. Ballet was my passion and it seemed like I was created for it. My few friends loved watching me perform and practice, complimenting me on everything. There were times where they would just say how pretty or beautiful I looked. All I would do was smile and blush, as I always seem to do, but deep inside I had a feeling that they were lying.  
  
Than I met Erik; a painter, an artist. When I first saw him something struck a cord. He seemed so lonely as he sat in the farthest corner of the room, musing to himself, as I think he did, as he drew on the papers before him. I watched him as I found my own table, one where I could sit and read without being troubled, yet I couldn't stop looking at him. Erik seemed out of place in the lunchroom, he seemed to fit better at a street side café in a place such as Paris or Vienna. As I watched him he looked me in the eye and the mystery and intrigue I felt only heightened and all I could do was blush and look away, watching him from the confines of my book.  
  
Slowly the music came to a stop and so did I. My heart was pounding within my chest and I let out a soft sigh. I turned around and looked at my little group of friends. The two of them smiled at me, their faces lighting up and they both clapped happily. I smiled, letting a laugh escape me as I trotted over to them. They greeted me with broad smiles and words of good will.  
  
"Bravo! You're getting better!" Leigh said with a smirk. She bit into a cookie after offering me one. Her midnight hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that was coming undone. "You doing any recitals soon? I love watching those things."  
  
I shook my head. "I have to focus on school. Dancing will have to take a back seat for a while. You got anything to drink?"  
  
Dana pulled a bottle of soda from her backpack and handed it to me. She smiled sweetly, pushing a strand of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "You shouldn't think of it that way. It makes it sound bad." Dana slowly began to pull her jacket on. "Think of it as, uh, putting it in second place for a chance. You make it sound so bad if you're putting it in the back seat."  
  
"I suppose." I said with a shrug. I pulled out my cell phone and glanced at the time. My eyes grew wide and I let out a startled gasp and groan. "Shit, it's almost six. I'm gonna be late for work." I quickly began to grab my things. I didn't bother to replace my ballet slippers for my tennis shoes or put on the pants I had worn over my leotards. Swiftly I threw on my hoodie and sighed. "Donovan will have a cow if I'm late. I'm the only cashier tonight."  
  
Leigh and Dana began to gather their things as well, offering to walk with me to my car. I didn't reply but stood and began to rush towards the door. Leigh said something and I than heard Dana yell something that I couldn't make out. I turned my eyes to look at her, only to see the two of them close their eyes and cringe for a moment.  
  
I collided with someone and stumbled backwards. With a gasp, I felt my face grow warm. A wave of paper was slowly falling to the floor in a mess. I cursed beneath my breath and knelt down, muttering that I was sorry. Hurriedly I gathered the papers, looking at Leigh and Dana for a moment. Their eyes were wide as they looked up towards whomever I had run into.  
  
Putting the papers together I stood and looked at the person who stood before me. Words quickly escaped me as I looked into Erik's brown eyes. A soft smile crossed his face and all I could do was return it for a moment. He held out his hands, wanting to take back his papers. I obliged and held them out. As we exchanged them his fingers grazed across my own and I noticed his cheeks slowly growing rosy as we looked at each other.  
  
"I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow." I said, suddenly finding a voice. Inside I kicked myself for such a stupid statement, but I knew I couldn't figure anything else out. "What are you doing here so late?"  
  
Erik motioned to his papers. "I came here to do some composing, and to get away from the house. My mother is having a friend come over." There was an edge to his voice when he talked about his mother. His eyes softened, though, when they turned to me. "And what are you doing here?"  
  
"Just practicing some of my ballet steps." I replied, beginning to feel self-conscious. Erik smiled sweetly, which eased me in a way. "This is the only place I can practice without really paying anyone." I lowered my eyes.  
  
"Maybe I can play for you and you can dance for me." Erik said. I looked at him, somewhat shocked. He smiled. "I know how to play songs from Swan Lake and The Nutcracker by heart. I would love to see you dance."  
  
I could tell my face went red when Erik said he'd love to see me dance because Dana and Leigh snickered. Erik glanced at them, causing them both to become silent. I blushed again and he smiled softly. He seemed different, though. I had a feeling it had something to do with something at home, so I didn't bother to think on it more.  
  
"Uh, Christine, you gotta get to work ya know." Leigh said as she and Dana stood. They looked at Erik nervously. Leigh cleared her throat quickly, which brought me out of my daze.  
  
"You're right!" I cried. I looked at Erik and smiled. "I'm really sorry, Erik. Maybe tomorrow you can play something. I just have to get to work or the assistant manager is gonna kill me. Have a nice night, okay?"  
  
Erik nodded and I quickly hurried out of the room, feeling my body grow warm from embarrassment. Dana and Leigh called out to me, but I didn't reply. I had to get to work and my mind was still buzzing with the thought of Erik. As my mind pondered on the thought of him, I began to wonder more about the mask and why he had to wear it.  
  
"God, Christine." Dana yelled. The two finally caught up with me. They glared at me, but I ignored their playful attempts to make me feel sorry. Dana sighed and glanced over her shoulder. "What the hell was that all about?"  
  
I glanced at Dana and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?  
  
Dana shrugged. "The guy, Erik was it? What's with the mask?"  
  
"I really don't know." I mused with a sigh. I shrugged as we continued our walk. "I guess I didn't really think about that until now. He didn't seem very happy with you guys gawking at him like that. You were being rude, ya know."  
  
"When did you meet him?" Leigh asked, nudging me with her elbow.  
  
A smile crossed my face as I began to reminisce. "Earlier today around my lunch time. He was sitting at a table drawing. We talked a little bit and he asked if I would be a model." I decided to leave out the part that I had followed him, fearing that the two would began to make up elaborate stories about me stalking him. What I said was pretty much what Erik and I did. I didn't want to fluff it up.  
  
"Oh!" Dana and Leigh said in unison before giggling.  
  
I glared at the two. "What do you mean 'oh'?"  
  
"Nothing." Leigh said with a smile.  
  
I narrowed my eyes. "What?"  
  
Dana smiled as we continued walking. "Well, it seems that you two like each other." I gave a nervous laugh, which only enticed Dana to continue. She crossed her arms over chest and looked at me from the corner of her eye. "I mean, from what Leigh and I could see, when ever Erik said a word your cheeks would get rosy and you're eyes would haze over when you looked him. For a second there I thought we lost you to a dream."  
  
"What about Erik?" I asked, beginning to wonder myself. I felt embarrassed knowing that I had worn my emotions on my sleeve. "You said he liked me."  
  
"Well, I think so." Dana said with a wink. She smirked and let out a soft sigh. "Well, not only was he staring at you with the same glazed over eyes, but when you were leaving he was lookin' at your ass."  
  
I felt my face go hot. "What? You can't be serious!" Leigh and Dana burst into giggles, nearly falling over each other as they walked. I frowned angrily and quickened my step. "I can't believe you guys. Making me think Erik likes me and than throwing it in my face. You two can be heartless sometimes."  
  
"We're sorry, Christine." Dana laughed. She took my arm and forced me to stop. I looked at her angrily. "I thought you could take a joke."  
  
With a huff I pulled my arm out of her grasp. "Apparently I can't." I said angrily.  
  
Leigh fiddled with the cuff of her jacket for a moment. Our eyes met and she smiled softly. "Seriously, though, Christine, I think he does like you. The way he watched you and asked if you'd dance for him. I think you may have found yourself a good match."  
  
For a moment I looked at Leigh, wondering if she was joking. The look in her eyes told me differently, though. I smiled slightly and lowered my head. "Are you sure? I don't wanna get my hopes up and then find out it's not true."  
  
"Don't worry." Dana said with a smile and a wink. "If you want, we can find out all about him. My art teacher gives him a private class. She may know something about him."  
  
"A private class? How do you know?" I said, exchanging a glance with Leigh.  
  
Dana stuck out her tongue. "Mrs. Marrin talked about him a few times in class and has even shown us a few of his paintings. He's pretty good."  
  
I nodded and smiled softly, tapping my fingers on my tennis shoes. Hopefully Dana and Leigh were right and I wasn't crushing on someone I couldn't have. Is this a crush though? Maybe I'm infatuated with him purely because of his artwork? No. There is something about Erik that is alluring; something that seems to be drawing me in.  
  
**********  
  
Erik  
  
The room was silent. I stared blankly at my sheet music, my fingers hovering over the keys of the piano. My fingers itched but I couldn't seem to force myself to play. My mind was still on Christine and the way she had looked at me. There was something in that expression when our fingers brushed against each other. I was embarrassed beyond belief, but the look in her eyes was something completely different. I have seen that same look many times in paintings, photographs, and movies alike, but never in my life has that look been given to me. What does she see when she looks at me? Her friends saw nothing more than my mask, but she seems to see past it.  
  
I pushed myself away from the piano and closed my eyes tightly. Every time I thought about Christine something stirred inside of me. True, her beauty is something I had dreamed of but there is something more than that. For the first time I knew I was feeling a physical attraction to someone. I had never looked at a person before in the same way I look at Christine. Her touch, her breath, and her whole being send shivers through my body, touching the very depths of my soul.  
  
Deciding there was nothing more I could do, I left the college. I wandered aimlessly through the city, taking back roads here and there. From time to time I would pause at a church and marvel at its beauty and wishing to see the gothic cathedrals that lived in Europe. As time slipped away I figured it would be best to head home; it was past midnight and the doctor shouldn't be around.  
  
The drive home was pleasant, listening to a classical station and wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and sleep. The house was dark as I pulled into the drive way and I smiled to myself. I turned off the car and left my things in the back seat. I would be off to school in the morning and there was no time for me to study or do any work.  
  
Soundlessly I wandered towards the house. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key to the front door. A yawn escaped me and I felt sleep tugging at me. Rest a hand against the door frame I managed to unlock the door. With another yawn I pushed the door open and stepped into the house. Silence and darkness surrounded me and I closed the door, without much concern if it woke my possibly sleeping mother.  
  
I stretched and sluggishly pulled off my coat. As I let it fall to the floor I felt something strike my arm. I let out a cry and stumbled backwards, the urge to sleep now slipping away. I pulled my throbbing arm to my body and searched the darkness. Faintly I saw a human form creeping down the stairs, something similar to a baseball bat in their hands.  
  
"Get the hell out of here. I don't want to hurt you." The voice was male and I had the sickening feeling that this person had done something to my mother.  
  
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to come up with a plan.  
  
Slowly the man left the last step and stopped, the baseball bat held as if he was ready to strike. "I should ask you the same thing. Get outta here before I call the cops."  
  
With a cry of anger the man swung at me. I dodged the bat easily and, without a though, struck the intruder with a hard kick. The man stumbled backwards, falling to the stairs and the baseball bat tumbling from his hands. I kicked the bat away and grabbed the man by his arms, lifting him up with a new strength. He kicked wildly, managing to give me a quick kick to the leg making me drop him.  
  
Thinking only of my mother's safety I pounced on the man, viciously punching him. He squirmed under my weight and some how managed to kick me off of him. This time he had the upper hand; he stood over me and quickly began to throw kick after kick, knocking the air out of me.  
  
Suddenly the lights flashed on. I let out a cry of surprise and covered my face. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs caused me to pull my hands away from my face. Halfway down the stairs stood my mother, wearing a bathrobe and a mask of terror. She stared at me before looking at the man who I had attacked; it was Dr. King.  
  
Dr. King raised a hand, causing my mother to pause as she began to descend the stairs. "Mary, don't come down here. Call the police for me." Dr. King looked at me angrily, his eyes drawn more to my mask than anything else. "I'll make sure he doesn't get away."  
  
"Peter, it's okay." My mother said, quickly coming down the stairs. To my surprise she came straight to me; holding me like a mother should. She looked at me, her eyes studying my face; more than likely to see if my mask is broken.  
  
"What are you doing?" Dr. King cried.  
  
My mother heaved a sigh and looked at Dr. King. "Peter, this is my son, Erik."  
  
For a moment I stared at my mother before turning my gaze to Dr. King. A shocked expression lay across his face as he stared at me. Slowly a smile crossed my face; it was out of embarrassment more than anything else. I knew Dr. King knew nothing about me let alone that I existed. For all I knew my mother told him nothing about me or what happened with my father.  
  
"You. . . . Have a son?" Dr. King breathed. His eyes stared deep into mine. "Why wasn't I told about him?"  
  
I pulled away from my mother and stood, fixing my clothes. I looked at Dr. King, my smile fading. With a simple gesture I drew his attention to my mask. "It's because of this and what caused it all. She would rather hide me from the world than to cause more pain for our family."  
  
Dr. King's eyes flashed from me to my mother. "You should know nothing like that would turn me away from you, Mary."  
  
"Oh really?" I quipped. "Why don't we just find out?"  
  
"Erik, don't." my mother said quickly.  
  
I ignored my mother, blocking out her voice quickly. Gingerly I untied my mask, holding it in place with one had. My eyes stared into Dr. King's and for a moment I saw him shudder. Then I pulled the mask away from my face and heard his sudden gasp as he saw what I had been hiding.  
  
"What happened?" Dr. King breathed. His eyes were wide with a mixture of horror and fascination. I felt like I was a side show freak in a circus.  
  
I looked down at my mask as I cradled it in my hands. I felt vulnerable; I felt like anything he did or said could wound me. "My father." I whispered. "He attacked me when I was three and I, somehow, survive. I suppose I'm just God's sick joke."  
  
"Erik!" my mother gasped.  
  
Without a word I put my mask back on and began to walk up the stairs. "Good night."  
  
Silence filled the house as I disappeared from the stairs. I went to my room and closed the door, but didn't go in. I slipped to floor, resting my arm on my knee and strained to listen to what my mother and Dr. King would say. There was nothing but silence. I knew he would say something about me; it was something everyone did when ever they see my face.  
  
Then it happened.  
  
"Have you ever considered surgery?"  
  
"Yes, but it was God's will to have Erik this way." my mother replied. "If God wished for Erik to look like everyone else, then that night would have never happened."  
  
It was the same story my mother told to anyone who as that question. For the first time, though, I cried when my mother responded. I did want the surgery, but she had her point; everything happens for a reason. Why did that reason have to outcast me from the world and from my own family?  
  
I heard Dr. King sigh. "Okay. But why do you force him to wear that mask? It only draws attention to him."  
  
"It would be worse if he didn't, Peter." my mother whispered.  
  
"I didn't hurt him, did I?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"That little scuff we just had; you don't think I hurt him."  
  
My mother laughed softly. "Oh no; I don't think you could. Erik is a strong boy and his strength can be frightening from time to time. I think the look you gave him, though; when he removed the mask will hurt him far more."  
  
I slipped into my room, shutting out their whispers and quickly fell onto my bed. All I wanted was to fall asleep and to never wake up again.  
  
********* Author's Note: Sorry this took so long to update. School, work, and so many other things just got into the way. :p And Christine's pov is kinda hard to write it. Rrrr I want both perspectives, but it'll probably end up being mainly Erik's pov. Anyway, thanks to my own private hunter(she knows whos she is) I was tracked down on AOL and told I had to continue. That gave me the swift kick in the butt to get me through this. I thank her because she is loverly. ^^ 


	4. Chapter Three

How can you see into my eyes  
Like open doors  
Leading down into my core  
Where I've become so numb  
Without a soul  
My spirit is sleeping somewhere cold  
Until you find it there and lead it back home  
  
— Bring Me To Life lyrics by Evanscene

I found Erik by himself in the private music room beneath the cafeteria. He was sitting at the piano, obviously in his own world. His eyes were focused on the piece of music in front of him, his fingers gliding over the porcelain keys with amazing grace and ease. As I inched in to the room I closed the door softly behind me, not wanting to interrupt the lovely tune. I lingered by the door and watched this master of music in silence. The piece was nothing I had ever heard before; I began to wonder if this was something he had written himself.  
  
"You can come closer, I don't mind the company." Erik said just barely over the sound of the piano. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. His black hair was messy but in such a way it almost appeared to be purposeful. The state of his hair, though, looked mismatched to what he wore: a pair of black dress pants and a navy blue button down shirt. Erik was dressed for something important but it looked like it was the last thing on his mind.  
  
I slowly approached him, slightly in a trance as I listened to the music. Without knowing I took a seat on the piano bench, only inches away from Erik. I couldn't tell if he minded, let alone noticed, how close we were. He seemed timid the day before, even a little weary of human contact. Now it was like he didn't seem to care.  
  
"It's a beautiful song." I whispered. I watched as Erik's hands danced across the keys, causing the stunning notes. Unconsciously I moved closer still to him and soon we both noticed that our legs were touching. Erik turned his eyes away from me quickly, never losing his place in the song, and I felt my face grow warm with embarrassment.  
  
Letting the music fill in the silence around us for a moment I sighed heavily. "I thought you said you wanted to do some sketches today."  
  
Erik nodded slowly, his eyes focusing on his hands as they danced across the piano's keys. "I did but my mother decided that tonight I would perform for some old friends of the family. She told me this morning so I really didn't have much time to tell you." He faltered for a moment as, I believe, his mind wandered away from what he was doing. "I guess we should've prepared for this a bit better."  
  
"It's okay." I said with a soft smile. "It's not like you knew this was gonna happen."  
  
"No." Erik whispered. He pulled his hands away from the piano, though he didn't look away. "It's not okay. You seemed excited with the idea and so was I; it's not every day I have someone willing to be a model."  
  
Silence settled in the room. I fidgeted with the cuff of my sleeve, somewhat nervous. I stared blankly at the piano and suddenly smiled. "I've always wanted to learn how to play the piano. My family had one when I was younger but I was never able to learn." Nervously I placed a hand on the keys and produced a few horrid sounds.  
  
"I can teach you, if you want me to." Erik said softly. He looked at me and I could see that he was nervous. I smiled happily and nodded; it was the only thing Erik needed as a reply. He quickly returned the smiled and looked at the piano. "So, do you know any songs; even if they're only parts of a song?"  
  
"I know a little Fur Elise." I replied with a bashful smile. "My mother loves that song; I watched her play it hundreds of times but I only remember the very beginning."  
  
"Okay. Why don't you play what you know? I can help you when you need it."  
  
Erik watched as I fumbled with the keys, my fingers barely able to make out the song. He winced at the sound, his eyes never leaving the sight of my hands. He could see I wasn't happy with how I was playing; it seemed to lack feeling, the same feeling Erik seemed to breathe into the pieces he touched. I wish I had his talent, but my talent rested in the forms of dancing and singing.  
  
"Why don't I help you?" Erik said, causing me to stop abruptly. He stood and moved behind me. "Move forward a little." I did so without questioning and was somewhat surprised as I felt Erik sit behind me. I tensed as his hands came over mine and as his chest came to rest against my back. His legs were on either side of mine and I could feel his breath against my neck, sending a chill down my spine.  
  
Slowly Erik put some pressure on my fingers, causing the piano to sing softly. The sound rang through the silence, drifting into silence little by little. He could tell I was nervous about how close we were and I could sense the same feeling in him. In a way, though, we both welcomed to the touch of the other, something I couldn't understand.  
  
"It's okay." Erik whispered in my ear. "Relax and let the music flow. Play what you know and I will guide you if you need help."  
  
I nodded and placed my hands in their proper places. Nervously I began to play the notes I knew. Erik guided me with ease, yet he didn't say a word. His hands and fingers lead my own to their precise positions, slowly at first. I smiled softly at our work, feeling more and more comfortable with Erik so close to me.  
  
"You're doing very well." Erik whispered.  
  
I smiled again. "Thank you. You're a wonderful teacher."  
  
Erik rested his chin on my shoulder and I came to an abrupt stop. I could feel myself blushing, a little nervous when Erik didn't pull away. His hands slowly moved away from my own, moving up my arms ever so softly. I shuddered against the touch and closed my eyes. Erik wrapped his arms around my stomach and he held me close. I could hear him breathing and for a moment I thought I heard him sob.  
  
I put my hands over Erik's and I heard him take in a sharp breath at the touch. He took my hands into his and squeezed them. There was something going on his mind, but I had a feeling it wasn't what most guys would be thinking; something was troubling him. As I opened my mouth to say something I felt his lips press against my neck, kissing me softly; my voice seemed lost.  
  
"No one has ever been so nice to me." Erik whispered. "Thank you."  
  
"You don't have to thank me." I replied. I took Erik's hand and kissed it. "I can't begin to understand why anyone would be mean to you."  
  
Erik pulled away suddenly and stood, leaving me with a sudden feeling of regret. I turned and watched as he paced slightly, his eyes on the ground and his hands in his pockets. I searched for words of comfort but nothing seemed like it would work. So, the silence continued for what felt like ages. I watched my masked friend and waited; if he wanted comfort he would turn to me eventually.  
  
Slowly Erik came to a stop, raising his eyes to the wall in front of him. Then he turned to look at the others as if searching for something. "Christine," he whispered, "do you know what time it is?"  
  
I pushed up the sleeve on my left arm and looked at my watch. "Oh wow!" I gasped. My eyes turned to Erik; he was watching me. "We've been down here for a while; it's almost two!"  
  
"Two?" Erik cried. He muttered some profanity beneath his breath and began to gather his scarce few things. "I have to get home. My mother would kill me if I wasn't ready by the time she arrived. My music isn't ready; I have nothing!"  
  
"Calm down!" I said, with a nervous laugh. The sound of my voice caused Erik to falter and look at me. "Don't get all worked up; it'll just make things worse. Take it easy and you'll be fine. Besides, I know you'll do fine."  
  
Erik shifted his weight from one leg to the other nervously. "Excuse me if this sounds rude, but how would you know?"  
  
I smiled brightly. "If what you were playing when I found you is anything to go by than you'll get a standing ovation." **   
  
ERIK**   
  
Before I left the college I gave Christine a ticket to my performance. It was supposed to go to Mrs. Marrin but she had prior engagements to attend. I was sad to know she wouldn't see me perform but, looking back on it, it was a God send. The look of shock on Christine's face when I handed her the ticket was etched in my mind. I was half afraid that she had other things to do but all she did was smile and say that she would be there.  
  
The moment I stepped on to the stage, the spotlight on me as I slowly moved towards the grand piano, my eyes scanned the audience. I looked past the aged faces and tried to find the young ones. There were a few people my age, but they seemed to be there for their parents. Just as I was turning my eyes away from the nameless mass I saw her; she was standing off to the side, almost encased in the shadows. She looked out of place, yet refined as she stood there in short, plain black dress. Her eyes sparkled and her hair was brought back into a ponytail with ringlets lining her face.  
  
During that performance I gave my all. It wasn't for my mother or anyone who was donating money to music programs, it was for Christine. I poured my heart and soul into each note and could only wish that she knew that it was all for her. Each piece of music was my own and as I ended my final piece, Piagnucoloso Angelo, I could feel the tears trickling down my unmasked cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut, sending the tears streaming down my face as I played and blind to everything. My fingers knew their places, even if my mind was fogged by the sudden rush of emotions.  
  
Then it was over; the curtains fell and I was slumped over the ivory keys trying to hold back my sobs. I could hear the applause roaring on the other side of the velvet material but I motioned to the stage hands not to move. I felt drained, a new feeling for me. Never in my life has a feeling washed over me as I finished playing a night of endless music. What was happening to me?  
  
"Erik?"  
  
I lifted my head just enough to see who was calling to me. I saw a flash of a black dress before watching this angel kneel before me, her eyes red from tears yet a smile was dancing across her face. Christine took my hand, the smile never leaving her face even as I tried to pull away. I sat straight and ran my fingers across the keys as I tried to regain my composure. The last thing I wanted was Christine seeing me in tears.  
  
"I'm glad you came." I whispered.  
  
"I couldn't pass up a chance!" Christine chirped. She stood and glanced at the curtain behind her. "They loved you! I never heard such music before. I mean, the last song brought every one to tears, Erik! I've never seen anyone do that."  
  
"You're too nice, Christine." I replied with a soft smile. I looked at her and she smiled back at me. "Thank you for coming; it means a lot to me." For a moment I saw something flash in her emerald eyes and they began to shake. When she blinked I noticed a tear trickle down her rosy cheeks. In a few quick movements I was beside her, cradling her face in my hands. "Why are you crying?"  
  
Christine shook her head and took a step back. "It's nothing; still just a little teary-eyed from that last song." She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, smudging her makeup slightly. "It sounded so sad. It was like someone couldn't touch the one they loved, even though they were so close. That someone didn't want to hurt the one they loved so they stayed away, even though it broke their heart."  
  
I lowered my eyes. "You're a very intelligent individual, never let anyone tell you otherwise." I took Christine's hand into mine and give it a tight squeeze, which she returned. "Thank you for being so kind to me."  
  
"There's my little artist!"  
  
As that voice ripped through my mind I pulled my hand away from Christine's, yet it was too late. My mother swooped to my side; her eyes studying Christine like a lion would study its prey. My mother linked her arm to mine and she looked at me proudly. She began to ramble on about the performance, never giving Christine another look. I did, though; my eyes stayed on her and they begged her not to leave. All she did was give me a goofy smile and a silent laugh about my situation. If my mother wasn't there I would've laughed too.  
  
Finally my mother looked at Christine. "Who might this young lady be?"  
  
I pulled my arm away from my mother and cleared my throat. "Mother, this is Christine; I met her yesterday after showing her some of my work."  
  
Christine smiled happily. "It's very nice to met you. Erik is a very talented person; you must be very proud of him."  
  
"So you attend the same college as Erik." My mother cocked an eyebrow. "Are you an artist as well or just looking?"  
  
"Christine does ballet, mother." I said quickly. "I've seen her practice and she is very talented herself. I'm coming up with a few ideas to have her perform with me."  
  
"What?" My mother and Christine said that word in unison, yet it sounded different. I could see that my mother was growing angry, her eyes were narrowing and her eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Christine, on the other hand, seemed to be shocked; her eyes were wide, her cheeks were flushed, and her hand was at her mouth in amazement.  
  
"I've always wanted to compose something that a person could dance to." I turned, looking Christine in the eye. Her cheeks began to deepen in their rosy color. "Would you mind? I would love the opportunity to work with you on two different projects."  
  
Christine smiled with a soft, nervous laugh. "Sure!"  
  
"Two projects?" my mother growled. She glared at me and I'm sure Christine was given even harsher looks. "What is going on here? Erik, what have I told you about. . . ."  
  
"Your son is going to do a couple of sketches of me." Christine said happily. "He asked me the other day if it was alright. He's such a wonderful artist, how could I pass it up?"  
  
My mother straightened her dress and fixed her posture. She was getting ready to do something, what it was I couldn't tell. "Erik, we need to leave. Dr. King is holding a small party in your favor and the mayor will be attending. Say good bye to your little friend and then meet me in the car." Those words were full of spite and venom and when she turned away I could feel her anger lingering in the air.  
  
Neither of us spoke until my mother had disappeared into the shadows. I looked at Christine and she looked at me. Her smile had faded, as did the color in her cheeks. She quickly averted her eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
"I'm sorry about that." I sighed. "My mother has a tendency to jump to conclusions and she is a little over protective."  
  
A smile suddenly crossed Christine's face and I knew she was hiding her true feelings. "Oh don't worry about! She was probably just upset that you didn't tell her about your plans. All mothers are like that; there's no escaping it."  
  
"What about you; is your mother like that?" I asked, shrugging. Christine opened her mouth to reply but her voice didn't respond. I saw her eyes shake for a moment but something shifted behind them; I had crossed a line.  
  
Christine looked at her wristwatch and heaved a sigh. "I think I better get home. Kyria will have a fit if I don't get back soon."  
  
I cocked an eyebrow and watched as she hurried away. "Is Kyria your mother's name?"  
  
"No." Christine said as she glanced over her shoulder; there were tears in her eyes. "She's my kitten. Good night."

**  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to write. . Writer's block is hell to me. Things have taken an interesting twist! What is Erik's mother angry about? Why is Christine avoiding questions about her mother? And how long can Erik go before telling Christine how he feels? Stay tuned for the answers and the coming of the 'Raoul' figure. dun dun dunnnnnnnn **


	5. Chapter Four

_**Erik**_

I'll see you smile as you call my name

Start to feel and it feels the same

And I know that maybe some days come

Maybe some days come

----_Some Day_ by The Cure

I looked for Christine the moment I arrived at the college. I wandered the halls much like a ghost, seeming to disappear into an adjacent room or into a shadow filled corner when ever a straggler late to their class appeared. Even though I attended a community college it was rare for more than a select few to see me. A handful of strangers, though, have gotten a glimpse of me as I walked into a darkened class and a whispered tale of a strange ghostly figure began to rise. It tickled my fancy when I heard this, but I never intended it to happen.

Christine was no where to be found. I looked in art rooms, the music hall, and a few of the empty rooms where she could dance but it was like she never existed. All I wanted to do was apologize for the night before; for my mother acting like herself and for my question which seemed to trouble her. I never wanted her to run off like she did as if I had struck her; I made her uncomfortable.

As I stepped out of the cafeteria, in my final attempt to find Christine, I saw her two friends sitting at a bench. Taking in a deep breath I walked slowly towards them, wincing when the sun beat angrily down in my face. There was a soft wind rolling by, chilling the two girls as I saw them pull their jackets around them tighter. It didn't bother me though; my black shirt and jeans seemed to shield me just as well.

Leigh raised her eyes and they quickly found me. I saw her take in a sharp breath and mutter something that only Dana could hear. The dirty blonde looked at me from over her shoulder and whispered to her raven haired friend. I found it odd when neither of them moved; did they think I would walk pass them without out a second glance? As I got closer, though, I saw their smiles when they turned and looked at me; I suddenly had a bad feeling.

"Hey there!" Leigh gave a wave as I grew closer. "You joining us for lunch or just wandering' through?" Dana moved over, silently offering me a seat which I took with a soft nod.

"Actually I was wondering if either of you saw Christine today." I sighed. "I've been looking for her since I got here."

Dana shook her head. "She usually doesn't have classes on Fridays."

"Yeah." Leigh chimed in. "Christine sets up a little shop out of her place for tarot readings. It's a hobby that gives her a couple of bucks to spend on junk."

"Tarot readings?" I asked. I rested my chin on my fisted hands and looked down at the table. I never thought much about her hobbies, let alone asked Christine what she liked to do for fun. There was so much I had to learn. "Do you know where she lives?"

Leigh and Dana exchanged glances. "Why?"

"I think I might have offended her last night." I said softly.

"What did you do to her?" Leigh growled. I could see the fire burning in her eyes as her mind began to wander. "If you hurt her in some way, you will regret it."

"No; it's nothing like that." I said quickly. "She came to my concert last night and I think my mother said something that didn't sit well with Christine. I want to apologize; I feel like it was my fault."

Dana sighed and pulled out a small piece of black paper. With a red gel pen she began to scribble something across the night colored article. She slid it to me and cracked a smile. "That's her room number and what floor she's on. She lives in the dorm on campus."

I looked over the scrap of paper and slipped it into my pocket. "Thank you; both of you." I stood and took a step away from the table before I paused. Leigh looked at me and cocked an eyebrow. "I promise I won't do anything to her. If I did I know I would have to answer to you." This got a smile from Leigh and I had a feeling I made a good impression on the two of them.

Without another word I wandered across campus, dodging other students and faculty. The trees didn't help my cause, letting the gold and red leaves fall as they readied themselves for a winter sleep. I was strangely lucky while I wandered through the barren campus; there was no one in sight. I glanced at my wrist watch; it was a couple minutes after noon. Silently I blamed it on the cold weather but thanked what ever God there was that I wasn't in the middle of a mass of people.

The student housing seemed to be well kept, but held on old charm to it. It was about three stories tall and well lived; many people must have wandered through its halls. Taking in a deep breath I pulled open one of the double doors and stepped into the building. I felt a wave of warm air rush against me, it was a good feeling after the walk across the chilled campus. Just like the campus, though, the dorms seemed empty and strangely silent.

I pulled out the paper Dana had given me and looked it over. Christine lived on the third floor and I was beginning to gather that her room would be towards the end of the hall. Shoving the paper back into my pocket I found the stairs and began my trek to the third floor. I noticed the old paintings hanging on the walls. The names meant nothing and some of the images were hideous but there was a select few that I enjoyed. I could only imagine how long it took to convince the college to decorate the building's plain interior but their work was well worth it.

As I stepped onto the third floor I caught the scent of roses. I turned and faced the soft scent and followed it blindly. My eyes watched as the numbers neared that of Christine's and I began to gather that the scent was coming from her room. Sure enough when I reached her room I reached the source of the lovely scent.

A small, hand painted sign greeted who ever saw it and announced that tarot readings were given within. Nervously I knocked on the door; silence followed and I waited. I knocked once more, a little louder this time, and in reply I heard a soft mewing. I smiled softly; it had to be Kyria. Again the feline called to me from the other side of the door and I heard it paw at the barrier between us.

"Come on in!" Christine's voice came from well within the room. "The door's unlocked."

Swallowing my fear I opened the door and stepped into another world. I saw a Siamese kitten skitter into the next room and I followed. The walls were decorated with images of fairytale creatures and pictures of scared Celtic sights. Porcelain harlequin masks dotted one wall and they seemed to draw me towards them. Their empty eyes seemed to beckon me and as I touched the painted porcelain I found a thin layer of dust; these masks were old.

"Sorry about that; I just needed to finish a call." I spun around quickly, catching Christine's eyes quickly. For a moment all we could do was look at each other. "Erik, hi! How, how did you get here?" I pulled out the black piece of paper and handed it to her. Christine looked at it and gave a soft smile. "Should've known. You ran into Leigh and Dana, I take it?"

I nodded. "I wanted to talk to you, about last night."

Christine smiled and shook her head. "You know what, don't worry about it."

"But I do." I replied. "If my mother said or did anything that offended you or if I did something, I apologize. My mother can be dense and over protective and I can be oblivious to things."

Something changed in Christine's eyes and she gave me a warm smile. "Have a seat." She motioned to her couch and disappeared into another room. "Did you want something warm to drink? I have coffee, different types of tea, and hot cocoa."

"Do you have any green tea?" I asked.

Christine poked her head out of the room with a bright smile. "Green tea it is then." After a moment she reappeared. "It'll take a few minutes for the water to heat, so we can chat for a bit." She sat beside me, leaving a comfortable distance between us. "About last night, you don't have to apologize for anything. When it comes to talks about my parents, I lock up and try to get out of there as soon as possible."

"What did your parents do to you?" I asked.

"Nothing." Christine said softly. Her eyes lingered on her hands before she looked at me. "My mother died when I was five. She was hit by a drunk driver on one of her nightly walks. She was a safe distance from the road and it was a clear night; she was visible, we know that. I really don't know much about her. All I know about her now was from my father. He told me stories about how they met and the years when I when I was growing. It hurt him deeply when she left us and all I could do was be strong and grow up a bit to comfort him.

"Then my father left me too. It was last year, around Christmas, when it happened. He was shoveling the sidewalk and I was inside fixing the two of us some cocoa. I heard a crash from outside which startled me, but I didn't think much about it. Carrying the tray of cocoa I went outside and I saw my father; he was lying in the snow. I screamed so loud when I saw him lying there. I dropped the tray and raced towards him. I could hear the mugs shatter against the ground but that really didn't matter at that moment.

"A few neighbors heard me scream and came outside to see what happened. One of them called an ambulance and this elderly lady risked herself to bring a blanket to wrap him in. Turns out his heart just stopped; my father was a strong man, though. Deep down I knew that he finally died of a broken heart. Ever since then I've been alone."

"You have no other family?" I asked softly.

Christine shook her head. "None that I would live with. My father left me a lot of money to keep living a comfortable life, though. I have most of it in the bank and just enough in a separate account to keep me going." She looked at me with a heavy breath. "What about your father? I didn't seem him with your mother the other night."

"I never really had one." I replied. Christine didn't bother to ask why and hurried to kitchen when she heard the kettle whistling. Silently I began to wonder if and when she would ask me about the mask.

"Erik," Christine said, "is your mother upset with me?"

"Why do you ask?"

Christine reappeared with a tray in her grasp. A beautiful china tea set glistened before me as she put the tray on the coffee table. She began to the pour the tea into their rightful cups and continued. "When she saw me last night she gave me a nasty look. You say your mother is over protective; I just want to make sure I haven't stepped over a line or something." Christine placed a cup of tea before me and took a seat. She cradled the cup in her hand, watching the cloudy liquid before taking a sip. "I think she believes I'm trying to take you away from her."

I looked down at my own cup. "I wouldn't put up a fight if you were." When I looked at Christine I saw her cheeks growing rosy. She averted her eyes and took a long drink of her tea. I smiled slightly, feeling my own cheeks growing warm. "I was wondering if you would do a tarot reading for me. I've always been interested in these things."

"Okay." Christine put her cup down and disappeared into an adjacent room. When she reappeared she had a deck of cards in her hand. The back of them were covered with stars and the edges were worn from use and age. She knelt before the coffee table, sitting across from me and began to shuffle the cards. "Did you have a specific question?"

"Not really." I replied. "I suppose just draw a card or two."

Christine nodded with a soft smile. She shuffled the deck a few more times before fanning the deck before her. "Pick the card that seems to draw you."

I looked at the used cards; they all looked the same and yet they seemed to emanate with a strange heat. I placed a hand about an inch from the cards and took in a deep breath. My fingers twitched suddenly and I could feel a strange sensation jolt through them. That force seemed to draw my hands towards a card, placing a finger on a single card.

Silently Christine took away the remaining cards. She didn't speak but when the card was turned I saw her flinch. I looked down at the card I had chosen and felt myself blush. Staring back at the two of us was The Lovers. A knot seemed to form in my throat when I thought about talking, so I leaned back and rested my back against the couch.

"What does it mean?" I said once I found my voice.

Christine bit her lip. "Well, it basically means you are searching for that special someone." I saw something change in her eyes as she stared at the cards. "This woman is part of you; the two of you are so perfectly attuned with each other that you can't really resist one another. You don't like being apart from her," she looked at me, "do you?"

I looked into Christine's eyes. "No I don't." Slowly I slipped from the couch and knelt before the coffee table, my eyes never leaving Christine. "What about you?" We looked at each other; her eyes were filled with confusion and her cheeks were growing red. My hand inched closer to hers, our fingers finally touching and entwining. "How do you feel when you're apart from him?"

"I. . . ." Christine stuttered; she turned her eyes away from me. "Erik, I really don't know how to say this. . . ."

A soft smile crossed my lips. "Then don't." I whispered. "No one should force you to say a word; only when you're ready." My fingers grazed softly across Christine's wrist and I felt her arm twitch. "You okay?"

Christine's cheeks grew a little rosy and she smiled. "Yeah, you just tickled me a little."

I cocked an eyebrow. "You're ticklish?" I saw Christine's eyes widen with childlike innocence. "Why don't I just try and find out."

Before Christine could move away I was beside her, my fingers tickling her sides. She let out a squeal of surprise and pulled away, laughing the whole time. I laughed and went after her, tickling her when ever I found an opening. She slapped my hands away playfully and somehow managed to find ticklish spots that I didn't know I had.

Christine pulled away from me, but I held onto her wrist. She let out a sound of surprise as she fell backwards; I fell as well. I felt warmth run through out my body as I stared into Christine's eyes; our bodies were touching and I could feel her chest rising and falling with every breath. My hand was still around her wrist but I pulled it away, my fingers trailing down her arm; she shuddered.

"You're really ticklish." I said softly.

"I know." Christine smiled. "People usually don't try and tickle me, though."

I returned the smile. "But is seems like you enjoyed it."

"No one gives me that type of attention."

"You always have mine."

Once more Christine's face grew red. We remained like that for a moment, until Christine broke the silence. "So, are you just gonna squeeze the air outta me or are you gonna move?"

It was my turn to blush. "Oh! Sorry." I pulled away from Christine and sat beside the coffee table, staring at the over turned. My eyes turned to the tarot cards. The Lovers card was still over turned, but the rest were still fanned out in a neat row. Silently I reached out and took a card from the row. "I wonder." I whispered. I flipped the card over and suddenly felt my heart sink. With a sharp breath I threw the card across the table as if it had bitten me.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked, sitting up.

I shook my head. "I knew this wasn't a good idea." I scrambled to my feet, feeling my chest tighten as I breathed heavily. "My mother told me to stay away from the occult. I thought she was being rash, but that card. . . . That card gave me an awful feeling."

Christine stood and retrieved the card. She looked at it and heaved a sigh. "Erik, you don't have to be frightened of it." She sat on the couch, studying the card in her hand. She motioned for me to join her but all I did was shake my head. "The Death card doesn't mean you'll die; it means that there is a change going on in your life. A phase is ending and you will soon enter a new era in your life."

"Change is represented by death." I muttered with a sarcastic tone. "I see Death in my dreams, Christine. Death only brings pain and destruction in my life." My hands twisted into fists and I raised them to my face, letting them open. My fingers grazed across the smooth surface of my mask. "I have to wear this because of my brush with Death. If I could turn back time I would see to it that my father never made it home, let alone into the kitchen. That bastard ruined my life."

"You can't be serious." Christine said softly. "Everything happens for a reason."

I spun around violently, growling like a vicious animal. "How could you believe that? Was it fate that made me this way? Did God decide that I should live my life in solitude and never live a normal life?" Christine seemed to shrink as I slowly moved towards her. My anger was growing and, this time, I felt like I didn't have control. "Why did He have the right? Does he not want me to know the simple pleasures in life? Because of Him my mother locks me away so I'm not part of her life; she lies to her boyfriends so she doesn't have to explain what happened to me. Because of God I can only long for a woman's touch; my own mother refuses to kiss me, so how can I expect another woman to look upon me with love in their wretched hearts?"

"Erik. . . ." Christine whispered.

"No." I roared. I took in a deep breath, trying to force my anger to break. Running my hands through my hair I shook my head. "No. This was a mistake. I should've never bothered with you. I'm sorry, Christine; I'm sorry for every thing." A tear suddenly trickled down my cheeks, cooling my skin. I turned away, not caring if she saw the tears. I listened to Christine breath deeply and move around on the couch. "I'm happy that you were able to see my performance and I thank you for the tea, but I have to go."

"Do you want to get together tomorrow, for the painting?" Christine asked, her voice shaking.

"I'd be surprised if you found me." I replied. "Right now, I just want to disappear and, believe me, I can disappear and never be found."

Author's Note:: Sorry about taking so damn long with this chapter. My muse likes to mess around with my head and I can hardly get a thing done. I think he'll be nice for a while and let me get some writing done. I'm starting the next chapter as I type this so I'll be happy if I can get the next one up later this week. Again, I'm sorry!

-Yuki


End file.
